


My Little Blue Friend

by Miss_Peg



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Endings, Gen, Goodbyes, Other, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:25:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Peg/pseuds/Miss_Peg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How The Couch feels about what happens in episode 6x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Little Blue Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tromana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/gifts).



> Written for the Paint It Red Stocking Swap 2013. Not sure it's quite what you're after, tromana, but hopefully you'll like it all the same. Probably one of many stories I'll write to the prompt 'somewhere, the tea is getting cold'.

The humans came in sometime after lunch, just swarmed the place with their sticky latex gloves and their gleeful smirks. I barely got a glance of Jane, one final time, before they dragged me away. If I had arms, I would have kicked and screamed the place down until they’d found a way to subdue me or had bundled me into the back of the moving van. Instead, I went along because there was nothing else that I could do.

I was hurt. At some point in the movement process, the humans responsible for carrying me allowed my bottom corner to dip into a gravel path and I felt myself being teared limb from limb. I do no bleed, but if I did, I would be empty by now.

They took me to some holding cell, somewhere I don’t know. A big warehouse full of cages where I watched them load the chairs and tables from the office on top of each other and lock the door behind them. I was stuck in a cell not far away; I had more space than my fellow pieces of furniture, but it was still more crowded than I would have liked.

Eventually, once the cages had been filled, they threw a black bag onto my leather surface, forcing me to live for what could have been eternity with a smelling garbage bag resting upon me. The contents spilled carelessly on my upholstery and I felt a metaphorical tear slide down my fabric, something which I eventually realised was cold tea.

The little blue cup, that Jane drank from for many years, lay broken in the opening of the bag and that was when I felt the most insurmountable amount of grief. Never would Jane sit upon me again, never would I be a comforting bed or a place to share a pleasant conversation with Lisbon, never would I make them smile again.

What hurt the most was that, despite my prison, I was still whole, but the tea would never again go cold in my little, blue friend.


End file.
